


dis·gust·ing

by triqpy



Category: my own fandom yet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triqpy/pseuds/triqpy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my equally gross boyfriend. ♥<br/>Stemmed from this picture (http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=36888736) because I'm actual trash and I love it a lot and this totally didn't start as a self-insert fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dis·gust·ing

The first breath was always the sharpest: choked and expected, taken in swiftness to avoid the rising urge to scream at the slice of cold steel that dragged along her breast. It barely scratched the surface, he'd say, but the rush of warmth that seeped from the little wound was replaced with the wetness of his tongue; the slick lap at the thin liquid until he sucked at the still bleeding wound to get a sound out of her. Something other than a whimper or a yelp, but white sunk into bruised lips to refuse indulging him. A nerve was struck at the sight, as his nerves so often were, but he waited - baited her with soft hickeys until her trembling slowed down to nothing but small winces between bites. Guard was dropped with a relieved sigh, but she twitched with the press of the blade against her nipple. There's a struggle in her mind to figure out a way, any way, to prevent what she knew was going to happen next - but hands twisted and writhed at her back, rope cutting into the skin of her wrists with a mewl. The pressure terrified her more than the pain, the heavy push and almost stab into the meat of her chest as he breathed and licked at lips. They were quivering and still gory from the incisions he'd started with until he sought to place his loving handiwork elsewhere since he found the sight of it all pleasing - weak and crying exactly how he liked. No one saw this side of her but him, and he basked in the glory of that. In the secrecy of the fact that no one looked at her when she wasn't smiling, that all they knew of her was her kindness.

They knew nothing of her fear, of her willingness after he broke her enough.

This all had started with a smile and an ounce of worry laced in a soft voice as she brushed back his hair, something he'd wholeheartedly returned with a reassuring smile of his own before something cracked at his surface (a shatter like glass that triggered some awful memory) and here they were: in his room with the shy, wet mess on his lap. Wet from tears and from sweat and from blood but the kind that got him the hardest was the wetness that dripped from between her legs. That, despite her shivering and sobbing, some part of her wanted this. Or maybe, in truth, she wanted nothing to do with it - but it was hard for her to complain tied up and eyes shut whenever he dug the knife in her. And god, he loathed the way she ignored him. How she'd close her eyes to imagine herself somewhere else, somewhere where she wasn't being decorated by his mini exclamations of love because he found voicing it useless. There was more heart to damaging her since her ruination was a working of his own, and he pushed the length of it every time he managed to get her here again; every time he made her a sloppy sight that only he'd come to adore.

"F-Flippy..."

Brows raised at the catching of his name, her voice a stifled wail that answered the question of why she'd spoken with a realization on his end. Silver tip penetrated the skin and some of the flesh of the breast he'd forgotten about, neglected during his mental debunk over her lack of reaction. He pulled it out slow intentionally, grinning as her eyes - half-lidded and watching like the good girl she became when his anger was provoked enough - darted between metal and the clear wound. The shallowness of her breathing calmed when he, gently, made amends to the laceration with kisses. It was a constant pattern between them: he'd calm her down to rile her up all over again, like a wind-up toy that'd cry harder with each turn of its key. The thin stream reached the fabric of her skirt while he tended to its origin, the smaller grinding against his lap to utter her conveyance of the feeling and bring it to his attention. But its met with an inch of annoyance, the discolored knife digging into the skin of her throat as his other hand pressed at the small of her back to keep her still. His lips parted to allow a bloodied tongue to wipe at the tears that still poured from her end, pulling back to admire how much prettier she looked with red everywhere other than her hair. Her hips shifted forward again in another attempt to grind against his cock but he grunted, the palm at her back snaking upwards to grasp at tangled tresses and jerked at his grip to expose her neck further. The point of his beloved danced along her skin as he trailed it downwards, leaving butterfly kisses along her throat until the smooth motion of the dance halted with the reaching of her skirt. A part of him damned himself for not removing the cloth sooner, but at least the same couldn't be said about her panties - tossed in the same quick pile he'd made of her top and bra. He sliced at her thighs as her moaning softened, as she eased into the sensation as he continued and rubbed the wet metal along her slit. For a third time, she moved without his permission; the whimper that followed dragging out as his grip tightened on her head and slid silver inside her. His cock throbbed at the heightened whine of her voice as he nudged the blade in until his thumb grazed across her clit. His hold on her lessened as he let his hand drop briefly, only to smother it over her mouth as he thrust the tool deeper. A muffled scream was still a scream, after all.

The mixed concoction that dribbled out of her and trickled down his hand prompted him to give a few more delicious thrusts before he removed the grisly weapon from inside her and replaced it with the one she'd lament less over. She was always hot when he thrashed in her, but she burned with a new intensity when he added extra body fluids to it. Her screamed sobs melted into a heap of ecstatic moans as he cupped at her chin and kissed her between her bounces, sometimes ones of her accord. She denied her need so much so that he took in her reluctance with a grain of salt, even if he opted for the less candid response to each protest. Both his hands hooked into the fat of her hips to scar them with his nails, digging into the skin harder until red colored his fingertips and her pace slowed. Teeth sucked at the loss of speed as he slapped at her cheek, digits pressing into her cheeks as he forced her mouth open to spit on the organ inside it. Her coming first was taboo because she required his permission for everything she tried to do on her own: the loss of control of his thrusts, how loud she got, when she came. It hardly mattered to him when she did if he wasn't there too, because he relished in the way her eyes rolled back and how intense she whimpered with his release. And try as she might, she failed to hide how much she enjoyed it. It's of no surprise to her when the knife returned to nestle at her throat in all its disgusting grandeur, and neither is it a surprise when he raised the messy blade to her gaping mouth and shoved it in. Silver slashed at the flesh as she drooled, the motion of it mimicking the movement of his thrusts. Her pussy tightened with his violence, his skewered version of love, and he throbbed as she ached with what she hoped would be their ending.

The release was bittersweet; his tongue replacing the gory aftermath his blade'd made of a crevice he hoped would make nothing but sounds he liked after tonight. Her legs trembled as she breathed a moan into his last kiss, her body shaking as she tried to catch her breath and dull the pain that laced itself throughout every corner of her body. Hips rose to remove herself from the equation, disconnect their physical connection, but he stopped her with a quick grab at disarrayed locks as he let her slide off him to fall to her knees on the floor. He traced the black handle along her cheek as his lips twitched into a smirk, tongue flickering out to lick at them as he smooched forehead.

"Be a good girl and clean up your mess, hm?"


End file.
